


An Uneasy Peace

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Eighteen years ago, the birth of a new Avatar, the mortal reincarnation of the fallen dragon god Grima, spurred a devastating war between Ylisse and Plegia. Peace had returned since then but troubles always simmered beneath the calm surface. Ylisse and Plegia. Naga's Champions and Grima's Faithfuls. Chrom and Robin. They all had duties to fulfill and actions to take.





	1. Chapter 1

Chrom’s most vivid memory of the Failed War was of his elder sister Emmeryn, then only fifteen, being crowned Exalt of Ylisse because their distant father had been killed in battle. Emmeryn’s face was white as a sheet when they received the news – she had been close to their father before the war had consumed all his time and attention, but she didn’t shed a tear. Her coronation was a sombre and abbreviated affair. Ylisse had been at war and could hardly afford to observe the customary month of mourning for the deceased Exalt or to hold the festivities celebrating the new ruler. The royal household were clad all in black in respect for their fallen father and the courtiers in attendance wore dark colours. The parade through Ylisstol was in an anxious mood. Some kindly souls scattered flowers as well wishes for Emmeryn as she passed but there was no cheer. Occasionally a bold rogue hurled abuse at the young soon-to-be Exalt before the guards intervened. By the end of the seemingly endless ride, their five-year-old sister Lissa was nearly in tears and Chrom wasn’t much better himself. The faces of Phylla and Frederick, their loyal companions, were dark and stony. Emmeryn alone was calm and gracious, seemingly unaffected by the coldness or the insults. However, Chrom wasn’t fooled. He had caught her flinching at the angry words. It was a complete opposite from the joyous celebrations described in their picture books about the history of Ylisse. From that moment, Chrom began to feel a quiet but insistent resentment at their father. It was his fault to go to war. It was his fault to die and leave Emmeryn to deal with these sullen and angry people. 

Robin would never say it out loud for many reasons but he had been actually pretty happy during the Ylissean invasion of Plegia. He had been taken away to a remote village for his safety when the war broke out mere months after his birth, accompanied only by his mother and Uncle Mustafa. They lived with only the bare essentials in that faraway place but Robin didn’t know hunger or neglect. His mother was a learned scholar and she soon earned them respect as well as food on the table with cures for common illness or improvements to the various tools and devices when their neighbours needed help. Robin spent his time playing with the other children in the village under the watch of his Uncle, and when he was old enough, his mother taught him to read and write and do simple calculations together with anyone who wished to learn. It was a simple and carefree life that Robin wouldn’t have again once the war was over and he had to return to the capital city. However, even then his life had been shadowed by secrets. He didn’t fully grasp the significance of the mark on his right hand that his mother so painstakingly hid every night with tinctures and magic, but he knew he must not talk about it. Likewise, his mother generously shared her knowledge to anyone who just asked her but she taught Robin magic only at night, hidden by the walls of their house and the wards she conjured. Robin didn’t enjoy keeping the secrets much – it took too much effort for his young mind. Nevertheless, he accepted it as a part of life, just like the sacred rituals performed at the village temple that the children were barred from and the adults wouldn’t talk about, even among themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky above the Border Pass was clear that day when Chrom led the Shepherds, the small militia group he founded with his friends for the keeping of peace in the Halidom, to patrol the area. The weather was beautiful for a day out, a good omen for Lissa’s first time in the field. Everyone was in high spirit with a spring in their steps. That was probably why they leaped into action with such alacrity when Sumia, the team’s designated scout by virtue of her skills with her pegasus, returned to report that a merchant caravan was under attack by bandits.

However, it was quite clear when the Shepherds arrived at the site that their assistance wasn’t really needed or even welcome. The merchants appeared to be well-armed and a quick glance told Chrom they knew their ways around combat too. Nonetheless, duties were still duties and he shouted to fighting group.

“In the name of the Exalt, drop our weapons and surrender!”

A snort answered Chrom’s words. It was from a red-haired woman in grey travelling clothes the merchants favoured who was defending the wagons at the rear.

“If you really want to help us, pretty boy, stay out of this. Or if you’re their friends,” she emphatically stuck her sword to a body charging at her. “Go ahead and die.”

Chrom didn’t even need to look to tell that his team weren’t too thrilled at those words. However, they didn’t argue with the woman. They just looked at Chrom expectantly, their weapons drawn. Truth be told, the harsh words of the woman stung his pride but he had to admit there was some truth to it. The merchant group weren’t just experienced fighters. They were well-organised, taking the advantageous positions and assisting each other in fending off their assailants. Chrom wasn’t sure the Shepherds could do much better. Charging blindly in such a battle would do more harm than good. Chrom bit his lips when mulling over the Shepherds’ options when someone else appeared by the woman.

“Anna, is there new trouble?” An obvious allusion to Chrom and his team’s appearance at the scene.

The newcomer was a young man dressed in the same travelling garbs as the woman he called Anna, his white hair and hazel-gold eyes a contrast to his olive skin. He gave the Shepherds a level gaze, assessing but not actually hostile. Chrom felt compelled to straighten his back and explain himself all the same.

“We are the Shepherds, a peacekeeping force of Ylisse. It’s our duties to keep honest civillians safe. We would like to help you.”

The young man and Anna looked at each other. She nodded her head as if giving permission and the man turned to Chrom.

“There isn’t much fighting needed here. We have already killed or driven most of them away. If you want to arrest the survivors, well, they run in the direction of the abandoned fort to the West. I suspect it’s their lair as well. With your steeds,” he glanced at the horses and Sumia’s pegasus. “You would have no trouble catching them. Be careful though, it’s easy to be ambushed in these mountain roads.”

Chrom thanked the merchants, who just nodded and turned to their own group. Sully whistled.

“What now, Boss? Looks like they don’t need rescuing after all.”

Chrom said. “You heard the man. Let’s go capturing those runaways bandits. This caravan group may not be bothered much by them but we can’t let them roam around at large causing more trouble. Any objection?”

Frederick sighed. “I don’t like the tone of those merchants. They sound like they were giving orders to you.” He raised a hand in a stopping gesture before Chrom could object to this unnecessary fretting about etiquette and respect. Frederick was a good knight and loyal to a fault, but he was also a rigid stickler to decorum, sometimes too much in Chrom’s opinions. “But the idea is sound enough. I suspect better us arresting those bandits than the merchants getting their hands on them.”

Chrom shuddered at the reminder of the vigilante justice still being carried out in the Halidom. Those who could survive violent crimes didn’t have much patience or mercy, and the consequences could be gruesome. It was another way the Failed War had damaged Ylisse. Shaking his head to chase away the dark thoughts, Chrom called to his trusted comrades.

“It’s decided then. Shepherds, on my mark!”

 

***

 

As the gods willed it, the Shepherds crossed paths with the caravan group again. Chrom and his team had successfully intercepted the remaining bandits, captured them, and taken them to the closest squadron of the Ylissean army. Like all criminal escort trips, the trek was frustrating and full of barely restrained temper. Everyone was glad when it was over and to treat his friends, Chrom suggested they stop by a village close by for a night of rest in proper beds and a hot bath. Lissa’s eyes lit up with delight. She had been groaning about the living conditions in the wilderness and while being reminded that she had asked for being taken along in missions herself was enough to make her drop the issue, it was clear she was only bearing the lack of comfort out of pride. The other Shepherds were used to these trips but they would not say no to the pleasure of lodging indoor for a change.

Chrom’s heart sank a little when he saw the wagons parked at the village outskirt. that meant a group of travellers had arrived before them and there might not be enough rooms at the inn. Vaike snorted.

“Merchants again. They are sure our bad luck recently.”

“Quiet, Vaike,” Miriel and Sully retorted at the same time, almost reflexively.

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please behave. We have our reputation to maintain.” He had lost count of the number of times he had to remind Vaike this, but his wild friend didn’t seem to remember or care. “Let’s go ask the inn owner anyway. Something will come up.” Chrom didn’t know what yet but they would take it and go on. That strategy had served them well so far.

Luckily for the Shepherds, there were still rooms for them as the merchant group preferred to sleep in their wagons to keep an eye on their wares. Less luckily, the communal baths might be crowded. The news was greeted with good cheers. They paid for their rooms and board without much haggling, which must have delighted the owner, for he threw in for them some ale. Before long, the group aside from Chrom had taken a bath and all of them went down to the common room for dinner.

The dining area slash pub of the village inn was already half full when they arrived, as the merchants might not want the room but they still loved the food and ale. Chrom spotted the red-haired woman they had met the other day. Anna, her name was. She obviously remembered him too because she raised her mug in a somewhat ironic salute when their eyes met. The merchant kept to her own group though, which suited Chrom just fine. He felt too hungry to do anything other than demolishing the delicious-smelling stew and warm breads served to them. However, when he had eaten his fill, he noticed Frederick was frowning.

“What’s wrong? The food not to your liking?” Chrom asked.

Frederick shook his head. “Those people over there. They have been talking about encountering more bandits recently, and most of them seem to be from Plegia.”

It was an impressive feat that Frederick could eavesdrop on conversations at another table at all with Vaike and Lissa bickering and the general noise. Chrom mulled over his words.

“The bandits we captured earlier talked in Plegian dialect too. I didn’t think much about it at the time.” If that wasn’t a one-off incident but a trend… Chrom didn’t like the sound of it.

“I will go talk to them.” Chrom decided. Frederick nodded. The other Shepherds looked on but didn’t question him. They knew Chrom liked talking to people and would even join him if they wanted to.

“My my, look who is approaching us. You’re even prettier now that there is no weapon in your hand.” Anna opened fire before Chrom could say anything.

He blushed. “I apologise if we made the wrong impression, Madame. We were only trying to help.”

Anna laughed. “You’re cute, aren’t you? Sorry that we were brusque too. Those in our trade can never be careful enough.”

“Let me buy you and your friends drinks,” Chrom offered. His time on the road taught him it was a good way to put people in a pleasant mood if you wanted them to talk. “We started out on the wrong foot but no reason to keep it so.”

Anna’s smirk told him she knew that trick too. “And now you’re trying to butter us up. You’re very pretty but you’ll have to work hard for it.”

Chrom smiled gamely. “I won’t waste your time, I promise. In fact, my friends over there and I may even be of use to you. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could tell us about the bandits you encountered lately.”

The whole table stared at Chrom but he stood his ground. A man sitting across Anna snorted. “Are you guys mercenaries? You want to be our guards? Sorry but we don’t need your service.”

Chrom kept his smile on. “We are the Shepherds of Ylisse. We’d do that for free.”

 

***

 

It wasn’t until quite late at night that Chrom made his way to the communal bath, his ears still ringing a bit from all the talking earlier. Lissa had laughed hard when she learnt that her seasoned brother who lectured her about building character couldn’t stand a crowded bath. It was a bit absurd, Chrom knew, but a prince was allowed some harmless indulgences.

As he opened the communal bathroom, Chrom discovered that he wasn’t the only one who tried to monopolise the bath. Well, it’d be silly to turn back now. Clearing his throat, he asked.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The other bathers turned to face him. One of them was the young man who was with Anna during the fight against the bandits. Chrom wasn’t going to forget the white hair and those sharp hazel eyes anytime soon. The other person Chrom hadn’t seen before. He was rather nondescript with hair the colour of dirty copper and face of age anywhere between twenty and forty.

“Oh sure. It’s not as if we owned this place.” Anna’s friend smiled politely. Copperhead just lazily waved his hand in a “go ahead” gesture.

Chrom waded in to the huge communal tub and stretched out, sighing as the warm water relaxed his muscle. Then manners kicked in and he said. “So, uhm, we met again. Thank you for the tip the other day. It was very helpful. I’m Chrom.”

He reflexively offered his hand before remembering that it likely looked ridiculous as they were bathing and naked save for the towels. Apparently Copperhead thought the same because he snorted. His companion, however, took Chrom’s hand anyway.

“Robin. Here is Gaius. Glad to be of help, and thank you too for taking care of those bandits for us.” Robin’s eyes flickered to the Mark of Naga on Chrom’s right shoulder and widened a little. His voice when he spoke again was a little wry. “I suppose I should apologise for my lack of courtesy the other day. I didn’t know you’re a prince of the royal house of Ylisse.”

Chrom blushed. He didn’t exactly try to hide the mark that loudly proclaimed his bloodline. On the contrary, he usually wanted people to know who he was, not to show off his status but to tell them that the royal house were aware of the consequences of their father the previous Exalt’s misjudgment and they were working to set the Halidom back to the right track. Something to repair the bond between the Exalt and the populace, to ease Emmeryn’s burden. However, people sometimes took it the wrong way. Like now.

“It- it’s no problem. You were dealing with an emergency and our job was to help those like you. Honest civilians shouldn’t have to worry for their safety when travelling in Ylisse.”

“I see.” Robin inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgement.

“Don’t give him grief over it, Bubbles. You’re one of the hoity-toity yourself.” Gaius spoke for the first time, smirking as if the talk amused him for some reason.

“Gaius.” Robin hissed. Chrom had to smile because he appeared much younger than he had been during the fight, face grim and eyes steely promising death to any hapless bandit who crossed him.

Gaius wasn’t deterred. “Bubbles here is from one of the fancy-schmancy houses in Plegia. His family send him on a trip with the caravan to learn how the world works, and I as their hireling get to babysit him.” He snickered. “So here I am, taking a midnight bath because his lordship wanted the tub all for himself.”

“Watch it, Gaius. I’ll give your candy stash way. I know where you hide it.” Robin growled. Even without really knowing him, Chrom could tell it was a mostly empty threat. Gaius must have known that too for he just grinned widely in reply.

“Oh, so you’re taking your learning trip.” Chrom said, feeling delighted. This custom was something Ylisse and Plegia had in common: youths from sixteen to eighteen regardless of background being sent away from home to learn a trade or just, as Gaius put it, “how the world works”. Emmeryn could remember occasionally meeting the scions of the Plegian nobility in Ylisstol practicing to be diplomats or to maintain their houses’ business contacts. They had gifted her with pretty trinkets or sweets. Emmeryn herself, or Chrom for that matter, didn’t have the chance for such a journey. She was thrust into duties as long as he could remember and he felt he had to hurry up and help her. They had been trying to give Lissa the leisure to learn and prepare as much as she liked, but she too felt the pressure to grow up and take on the duties of a princess. To chase away the sad thought, he grabbed on a topic to continue the conversation. “Isn’t it rather risky travelling to somewhere remote like this with only a bodyguard?”

“Riskier than a prince fighting hardened criminals in the same area with only a handful of soldiers?” Robin raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Chrom laughed at the sharp riposte. “You have a point, I guess. You and your friends fought really well the other day, by the way. I can see why you can feel safe with them.”

“Thank you. Anna’s guild and my family are long time business partners. She and everyone have been very kind to me.” Robin said with real warmth. The conversation then drifted to several inconsequential topics like the fun and hassles of travelling, Ylissean and Plegian sceneries, and what to do with an irate horse. Robin was easy to talk to and Chrom forgot the time until Gaius cleared his throat pointedly.

“Kids, I know a warm bath is very pleasant but I’d be skinned alive if Bubbles here so much as sneezes. And you, Blue,” Gaius shook his head at Chrom. “I can’t imagine your friends would be happy when you get sick either.”     

Both Chrom and Robin flushed. They stammered an apology and scrambled to get dressed and return to their group. Frederick raised an eyebrow at Chrom when he came back to their shared room.

“I’m just about to go check if you get drowned,” he said drily. His face darkened. “I don’t want to intrude but maybe you shouldn’t go alone from now on. Who knows if there is an assassin lurking somewhere.”

Chrom imagined Frederick barring all other bathers from the communal bath in full armour and tried not to laugh. He settled with. “Don’t worry Frederick. I can handle myself. Look, I bring my dagger with me.” He disposed of his bathing kit and walked straight to the bed, knowing that Frederick wouldn’t pursue the matter further if he didn’t try to argue. It was already late and they had to wake up early tomorrow. He fell asleep quickly, dreaming about exciting journeys beyond his usual patrols and fights.


	3. Chapter 3

Time never seemed to pass in the stately halls of the Hierophant Quarter and not in a good way, Robin mused. These rooms were richly furnished but they were unwelcoming and gave off the feelings of lifelessness. They were apt background for the talks Robin had in this part of the Plegia Castle. Unchanging, tedious, and leaving no one happy afterwards. His Eminence Validar the Hierophant of Plegia and Robin’s blood father was a very proud man and the chief of the Grimleals, the most ancient clan of Plegia descended from the people who had followed Grima and his vessel and had become the first to live in Plegia after the dragon god’s fall. Accordingly, he had certain ideas about what he deserved and how people around him should act. Thus as soon as Robin had finished reporting in to the Grand Council, he received a summon to Validar’s quarters.

“What do you think you were doing, Daraen?” the Hierophant brusquely asked without so much as a greetings. Robin was used to it as well as the way his formal name was intoned like a scolding.

“Doing my duty, Father,” Robin replied. “You will be pleased to hear that our people are doing well.” That was an empty answer he had perfected for these almost ritualised confrontations whenever Robin ignored Validar’s protests and went on various missions, sometimes on his own agenda sometimes at the Grand Council’s request.

“Duty,” Validar sneered. “What duty can you have beyond the duty to your flesh and blood? When you were off gallivanting to some backwater dumps, the Usurper stuck his nose in our affairs again.”

“It is impolitic to call the King that, Father,” Robin said mildly. “What if someone overhears you?” He knew that the Hierophant and his people had set up wards and devices to prevent eavesdropping in these halls. Robin could, however, circumvent all of them. He hadn’t gone so far as to sell his blood father out but he kept a metaphorical ear on the Hierophant all the same, and he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he was the only one capable of spying on this prominent man who was more often than not a nuisance.

“Don’t try to distract me,” Validar impatiently paced around the room. “When are you going to grow up and act in a manner that fits your station? Do you know what it looks like, you scurrying around like a petty clerk at the beck and call of the vultures who fancy themselves the Grand Council?”

 _As opposed to being your unthinking puppet?_ Robin wanted to retort. When he returned to the capital city after the war, his upbringing and education had almost immediately became a contentious subject with almost everybody who was somebody in Plegia expressing doubts over Validar’s unsubtle attempt to become the sole person who could influence the young Avatar. As a child, Robin had mostly been unhappy about the abrupt separation from his mother and uncle but even then he had chafed under Validar’s overbearing control. To the Hierophant’s consternation, the Grand Council decided that, though Robin was still under his blood father’s custody, there would be regular supervision over the young Avatar’s care and his education would be with tutors who weren’t of Validar’s choosing. That, Robin reflected later, had made his life at once more enjoyable and complicated. His tutors had been the most brilliant of their fields and his mother had been selected to teach him too. Most of the tutors, however, had also been part of various factions in the theatre that was the Plegian court.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Validar stopped his pacing and looked at Robin when the silence had gone on a fraction too long.

Robin calmly looked back. “I have fixed the magic energy lines in our eastern territory. I gave blessings to the people who requested it. I reinforced our defensive wards.” He left out the part that he had asked Anna for a little tour in Ylissean territory to have a look at the rumour about unusual bandit activities – though he hadn’t told the Grand Council about that either. “Forgive my naïveté, Father,  but I think I am more useful to Plegia being out there than cooped up in a high tower.”

“And naïve you are!” Validar growled. “You were born to be a god! We, the faithful followers of Grima from the beginning, should be running Plegia! Not those pretenders! Give them an inch and they will take a mile! You think acting like a lackey and they will leave you alone?”

Robin tuned out the rest of the familiar rant. Unlike Ylisse, the monarchy of Plegia wasn't hereditary. When a King stepped down or died, their successor would be elected by the Grand Council. The Grimleals had not had any member of them chosen King of Plegia for two consecutive generations. That was a sore topic for Validar and Robin knew he was hoped to be a key to get back to power one way or another. The attempts to pull him into partisanship were always the same. Exaggerated threat about the unscrupulous and power-hungry social climbers out there with “flesh and blood” being his only safe haven. Appeal to his filial love and lamentation of his “heartlessness”. And as always, Validar would run out of breath and coldly dismiss him.

On his way back to his own quarters, Robin met his elder half-sister Aversa. He politely nodded in greetings with the intention of getting out of her way as fast as possible. Their relationship was complicated to say the least. Aversa was Validar’s eldest child and normally she would have been the undisputed heir of the Grimleals. However, Robin’s status as the Avatar gave him precedence if he ever wanted to lead his blood’s father clan. The way Robin always got the lion’s share of attention, whether he wanted it or not, didn’t help the matter. Aversa tried her best to prove she was the more dutiful and deserving heir between the two of them, especially to Validar. On his part, Robin felt little affection for her and hating to lose by nature, he hadn’t give her much opportunity to act superior. Their childhood rivalry had cooled down to prickly toleration when they grew up and it became clear that Robin was more of a scholar than a politician. They kept out of each other’s way and would not talk beyond the barest necessity. That was why Robin was surprised when Aversa stopped and talked to him.

“How long are you planning to continue like this?”

“What do you mean?” Robin was genuinely confused. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t interfered with anything she was involved in.

Aversa glared at him. “I have no love for you, Daraen, but we are still allies by blood if nothing else. I don’t really care where you run off to, still you can’t go on pretending to be a simple apprentice and avoiding taking a position at court forever.”

“Did V- Father put you to this?” Robin warily asked. Aversa wasn’t the most effective channel to get to him, but Validar had been more worked up about court politics lately.

Aversa’s gaze turned contemptuous. “Be careful whom you’re underestimating. I can think for myself.” Robin hastened to apologise but she didn’t seem to listen to him. She continued. “Things have been moving since your coming-of-age ceremony. You can’t pretend it has nothing to do with you.”

Robin frowned. “But I don’t pretend anything. I will not contest your place as Chief of our House when Father steps down if that’s what you worry about. It is as I said to the Grand Council. I’m content to watch over the Kingdom and give my help wherever it is needed.” And whatever Aversa thought, Robin had always paid attention to various going-on at court and in the kingdom. He just didn’t like to flaunt his status as Avatar.

Aversa looked at Robin intently as if to decide whether he was a naïve fool. He startled to realise she was worried under the haughty demeanor. Poor relationship or no, he was well aware of her character. She was very ambitious and ruthless but she wouldn’t be willing to spread chaos and disaster for power, not necessarily out of truism but of pragmatism. Robin wished he could just ask what unsettled her but he knew she wouldn’t want it to be on his terms. She was still too much a scion of Validar to be content with anything less than people following her lead.

Sighing, Robin said. “What do you thing my being at court regularly will achieve? I don’t wish to rule and don’t want the King to get the wrong idea. I suppose I should be the Hierophant being what I am but I doubt Father would be happy to hand over the position to me. A place in the Council I already have, but I need to travel to do the work properly.”

Aversa shrugged. “Figure it out, Daraen, and quickly. Have a good day.” She walked off, leaving Robin with his mind whirling.

 

***

 

Aversa’s cryptic words kept ringing in Robin’s ears for the rest of the day and in the morning after, making him turning back and forth every bit of what he knew about recent activities of Plegia’s movers and shakers in his head. He had been doing his best to maintain the delicate balance of Plegian politics as soon as he was old enough to understand the various wheelings and dealings in the corridors of power. The secrets he had been kept to ask to keep early in his childhood had drilled in him the habit of choosing his words and actions carefully, and something he had come to realise to be the memories of the previous Avatars as well as the dragon god he was a reincarnation of had led him to be aware of the powers he wielded.

The divine dragon gods were all revered and worshipped by humans for their guidance and protection, but Grima was special to Plegia. The dragon god had been young in the way of their kind and had loved and hated with a passion unmatched by any other. Out of love and grief for their friend, they had wrought a war on all human outside the small clan they had been attached to. Out of regret and a promise to a brave young woman of that very clan whom they had pulled into their seemingly endless vengeance, they had surrendered to the Champion of Naga. And using themself as the sacrifice for the magic, they had created a new haven for the allies who had faithfully followed them to make up for the misery they had caused. The land of Plegia – from the relentless desert to the beautiful oases, from the ragged mountains to the glittering caverns - was formed from the body of Grima while their soul slept somewhere beyond the reach of humans. Why would Grima’s soul once in several centuries dwell in a mortal body and take on a new personality, no one really knew. What was obvious was that the human reincarnation of the dragon god was always in possession of an extraordinary aptitude for magic and was in tune with the rich energy veins of Plegia like no one else could. Thus the Avatar was always respected and feared. Robin’s birth, after all, had been the cause of a war that trampled on all ties of friendship or family between the two neighbouring countries. The previous Exalt had believed an ancient, and - as far as Robin was concerned – completely nonsense, rumour about the Avatar being the seed for the revival of the dragon god that had nearly been the doom of Ylisse’s forebears.

Frustrated by the fruitless thinking, Robin metaphorically threw his arms in the air and went to the place he loved the most in the city: his mother’s laboratory at the Academy. He smiled when an apprentice informed him the Lady Solyma was occupied with an experiment and invited him to take refreshments in his mother’s bright and airy solarium or to have a look at the latest additions to the library if he felt like it. This was a familiar routine of them. Robin’s mother was full of ideas and therefore rarely idle, so whenever he dropped by without telling her before hand, she would be at work and he could help himself to anything he liked in the premise as long as he didn’t disrupt the work of the people here.

The Academy of Plegia was a place of wonders and delights where the mages and artificers of the country as well as the occasional visiting scholars laboured to understand the world around them and to create artifacts and devices to satisfy people’s needs or just for entertainment. Robin loved this place and he was grateful that the Academy’s extensive collections of books, monographs, pictures, and models had survived the invasion by Ylisse mostly intact thanks to the ingenuity of the curators. The thought of war made Robin sigh dejectedly. He picked up a few of the new monographs and brought them to his mother’s solarium to read, nodding politely to the librarian on duty. As he looked through the illustrations of a pocket-sized devices made of crystal and silver to record images in addition to sound, an amused voice spoke over him.

“It’s good, isn’t it? I will even give you one of those if you like. It can’t store much yet and we haven’t found out how to make the images and sound bigger for more than just one or two people. At least the quality of the record is good.”

Robin looked up and smiled. “Mama. So that’s what you have been working on? I knew you wouldn’t be content with the phonogram.”

He stood up to hug his mother. Lady Solyma, First Class Artificer of the Academy, was clad as usual in her favourite purple robe and a leather apron. Her hair, which was white like his, was covered neatly by a net and her warm hazel eyes glittered with good humour. Not for the first time, Robin wondered why she could ever fall in love with someone like Validar. In his experience, their interaction was always tense and acrimonious. He would never forget her fighting tooth and nail for him to be educated and checked on by people other than the Hierophant and his faction at that fateful Council meeting.

“Who did you argue with this time? Validar?” Lady Solyma asked as she poured out a cup of tea for herself and topped up Robin’s cup.

“Mama, I don’t visit you just because I had a fight with someone,” Robin protested.

“Right, right,” his mother chuckled. “So whom should I send a canister of stinking gas to?”

Robin laughed despite himself. “You know that has been ruled illegal around here. Too close to an assassination and all that.” He shook his head. “It’s fine, Mama. I just have, well, a lot of thoughts.”

“I see,” Lady Solyma said. She took a sip of tea and grimaced. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Still I wish I could help you. I wonder sometimes if I made the wrong decision not running away with you when you were a child.”

Robin had heard this before. Once when he had been fifteen and overwhelmed by the fighting over him as well as Aversa’s hostility, he had run to her laboratory not unlike now. After hearing his complaints, she had unexpectedly offered to help him escape to somewhere no one knew him. She had also told him she had considered smuggling him out of Plegia when he was little and had always been prepared to leave should he need to. Then as now, Robin had known his answer.

“I am glad you didn’t run away, Mama,” he said sincerely. “I’d hate to imagine what you would have had to go through on the run with a child and many secrets, being hunted by all of Plegia.” And he knew his mother was happiest at the Academy. An artificer worth their salt could work anywhere, but he was well aware no place could compare to this well-furnished laboratory and the carefully calibrated magical energy lines.

“Right, but what about you?” Lady Solyma softly asked.

“I have the feelings I would have returned here even if you had taken me away,” Robin took a deep breath. “This might be arrogant but I _am_ the Avatar, Mama. I can feel the land here calling to me. I… don’t really want to abandon it.”

“But you are also you, Robin. You may be the reincarnation of a god but you are human all the same. Too much burden and you will break. And what you are capable of can be a temptation to some.”

The inflection of her voice when she spoke that last line startled Robin. “You heard something too?”

“Too?” His mother asked back. “Something happened to you after all.”

“Nothing specific,” Robin shook his head. “Only a cryptic warning from Aversa. She seemed worried and she wanted me to, well, assert myself more at court because something has been moving.”

“Oh, her,” Lady Solyma frowned at the mention of Robin’s old adversary. “Well, I don’t know if it’s what she alluded to but Mustafa told me recently about fund disappearing from the treasury and no one seemed bothered about that. It wasn’t much money but the apathy troubled him. The army had been ordered by the King to keep a close watch on the border too.”

Robin felt a chill in his spine. “Ylisse... It’s as if they are expecting something to happen. With the bandits being more active lately too,” He grimaced. “I think I have an idea about where this may go.”

He didn’t voice something he hoped desperately to be not true yet knew to be inevitable. Should Plegia be at war, he would be expected to aid in the fighting, to be a supreme weapon that would bring them victory. It was no secret that military tactics came naturally to him, although he kept quiet about his particular ability to “see” the combatants’ strengths and accordingly the outcome of battle. And then there was the old belief. Despite not having as many troops as Ylisse, Plegia fought bravely and evenly and it was said the desert and mountains themselves protected them, a grace from Grima. Then the tide turned decisively in their favour when the then Exalt was cut off from his soldiers during a sandstorm, allowing the Plegian side to corner and slay him. The war ended not long after that.

“What are you planning to do?” Robin’s mother asked.

“I could voice my concern to the Council about, hmm, that rumour of the merchants. Or ask about the missing fund. Damn Aversa, she wasn’t wrong. I can’t keep on watching. I will have to put the pressure on someone. Everyone.”

Lady Solyma reached out and squeezed Robin’s hand. “You will be nobody’s tool, Robin. I promise you that.”

Robin squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Mama.” Taking on a more cheerful voice, he changed the topic. “Enough of that. I want to hear more about your new invention. And oh, you won’t believe what happened during my mission.”


	4. Chapter 4

With a sense of foreboding, Robin contacted everyone he could trust and asked them to watch the movements of the Grand Council members. On his part, he made an effort to attend as many events and gatherings of the Plegian ruling class as he could stomach. As the Avatar, he received an avalanche of invitations whenever he wasn’t away from the capital, which he usually politely declined. He liked talking to people but he found the endless posturing and attempt to curry his favour taxing. This time however, he heeded Aversa’s warning and tried to show up, ears open for rumours and gossips that could be useful. That was how he found himself drinking with the military officers at the Dragon’s Table, the headquarter of the Plegian army. His uncle Mustafa was a high-ranking commander and as a result, Robin was generally well-liked by the soldiers. He deflected the usual cajoling for him to join the military properly with a polite smile and self-depreciating jokes. The story turned to the topic of new recruits and the wyvern flock. Apparently, King Gangrel had been buffing up the border force.

Trying to appear as calm as possible, Robin asked. “Is trouble expected from Ylisse? I thought they have reduced their army as per the treaty?”

Uncle Mustafa shot Robin a look as if he knew what his nephew was up to. Next to him, Commander Orla snorted. “The King always expects trouble from Ylisse. He can’t trust them. I’m not sure he’s wrong either. After all they attacked us after decades of honeyed words about good neighbours and friendship.”

Robin looked at his glass. It was well known that King Gangrel was the only survivor of his squadron after a brutal battle during the Ylissean invasion. The King had been an orphan picked up by an army unit. They had been practically his family. Robin hadn’t experienced such losses himself but his soul – Grima’s soul – still remembered an ancient pain and rage. He couldn’t help but sympathise with the King. Nevertheless, a truth remained.

“It’d be nice if no one has to fight,” Robin muttered, half to himself.

“What?! The little Lord Daraen is afraid of a fight?” A young officer named Roddick scoffed.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t talk until you can beat me, Captain.”

The group roared up in laughter while Roddick spluttered indignantly. Robin’s record at the military school as well as the few skirmishes he had had with the outlaws were notorious. He was passable with a sword, pretty good with a tome, but what distinguished him was his keen sense for tactics. He was a match for the most experienced commanders in the Plegian army during the annual mock battles, and everyone knew his words to Roddick were no empty boasting.   

Commander Orla clapped Robin’s shoulders. “You told him, little Lord Daraen. You act soft like a pampered paper-pusher but there’s some fire in you, heh?”

Robin hummed noncommittally. The rest of the party went on with no further incident. When it was over and Robin was on the way back to the castle in the company of his uncle, Mustafa asked with no preamble.

“What will your decision be, Robin?”

Robin knew what his uncle was alluding to. “You believe there will be war with Ylisse soon then?”

Mustafa shook his head. “It’s only a feelings. King Gangrel… he truly hates Ylisse and I fear he may be tempted to seek revenge over peace.”

“Revenge? The Ylissean Exalt who started the last war and most of his generals were already slain,” Robin mused. “They have paid most of the reparation. It wouldn’t be just for us to wage war on his children.” The image of the earnest Ylissean prince came to Robin’s mind. He had only met the prince once but his well intentions and the friendliness towards a stranger from another country rather touched Robin. “Besides we have barely recovered from the last war.”

“I’d agree with you,” Robin’s uncle said gently. “And I believe the King won’t initiate a war in the name of vengeance alone because very few would agree to it. The problem is, he may take a perceived act of aggression as pretext.”

“Or manufacture one,” Robin muttered. “Do you think the King can be reasoned with if something like that happens, Uncle?”

A sigh was answer enough. Giving a sigh of his own, Robin voiced his next question. “But why would he take a course of action that could plunge us into chaos? The King has served Plegia well since he was chosen. He must know how risky a war is.”

Robin’s uncle looked at him sadly. “Rage isn’t rational, my child. And as for our chance of winning, you should know what you are capable of yourself, as much as I hate thinking about what they expect from you.”

“And the army? How many of them would follow the King’s lead?” Robin ignored the mention of his talent for battles.

“Some of them love a fight. Some are loyal to the King. Still most wouldn’t look forward to yet another war, especially one that we initiate,” Mustafa gave his nephew a sideway glance. “Robin, do you intend to…?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Robin smiled grimly. “I don’t want to be King and I’ll stand by that. But if the King wants a war, well,” he shrugged.

“Let’s hope we won’t have to find out then,” Mustafa patted his nephew’s head.

 

***

Despite Robin’s worries over the likely brewing conspiracies, he still had to fulfill his usual duties as a member of the Grand Council. As the youngest Councilor and having assumed the position since he was sixteen on the basis of his status as the mortal reincarnation of Grima, he always felt self-conscious and under pressure to do the work well. That meant he had to go over the endless paperwork and engage in many debates both formal and informal about the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom. As a result, he was rather blind-sided when Anna forcefully pulled him aside one evening after a dispute settlement between a trader and his customers.

Only a few years older than Robin, Anna was the formidable chief of the Sunwings, the guild of merchants who specialised in long distance trade. They were descended from a group of migrants who came to Plegia from across the ocean and though having a territory of their own in the kingdom, many of their members lived mostly on the roads, bringing Plegian jewelleries, carved stones, and cunning devices to other countries and carrying fabrics, timbers, and exotic food back. Being a tempting target to bandits and greedy officials alike, the Sunwings merchants had an extensive network of informants that covered almost everywhere to protect themselves and therefore were usually the most knowledgeable people in the realm. As the chief of the Sunwings, Anna represented their interests at the Grand Council. Being close to each other in age, she and Robin had become fast friends. Pragmatic and ruthless yet honourable in her own ways, she was one of the most important allies Robin had. He had confided to her his suspicion about attempts to stir up conflict with Ylisse and asked her to keep an eagle eye out for anything unusual.

In hindsight, Robin should have known that something was up when Anna exclaimed rather too enthusiastically when she caught up with him outside the courthouse. “My dear Lord Daraen! You must go drinking with me tonight! We haven’t met in forever. I just got a casket of the best brandy you’ll ever taste.”

“Oh hello, An- Chief Anna,” Robin replied rather awkwardly. “Thank you but I have work to do.”

“Oh no, I insist,” Anna wrapped an arm around Robin’s shoulders and dragged him along with her. “You’re cooped up in the castle too much. It’s good for you to go out from time to time.”

Robin wanted to protest further but a pinch on his arm silenced him. Stopping himself from blurting out a clumsy question, he sighed theatrically. “Very well then, I’m sure you know best.”

“That’s more like it,” Anna grinned.

Later when they were seated in the elegant guest room of Anna’s small but well-appointed villa in the capital after a delicious dinner by her great cook and drinking her excellent brandy, Robin asked. “You certainly won’t take me here without a reason. So, what’s the deal?”

She mock-pouted. “You’re so cold, my Lord. I can’t invite you here because I enjoy your company?”

“You flattered me, my most esteemed Chief,” Robin smirked. “But we’re here in your house at this hour instead of carousing in the pleasure houses.” Anna was the reason Robin knew such places at all. Validar and his tutors at the Castle considered those public entertainment establishments unworthy of their status and were none too pleased when Anna and some younger members of the nobility introduced him to the “indecencies”.

“You hurt me, you know. Anyway, don’t drink too much. You’ll need your mind clear.” Anna took a sip in contrary to her advice.

“That serious, huh?” Robin muttered, looking at his friend’s now sombre face.

“Yes,” Anna nodded. “Robin, my agents traced the source of the weapons supplied to the bandits we destroyed at the border. It’s someone from the army.”

“Army weapons were stolen and sold outside to criminals?” Robin startled. “Why is no one talking about this?”

“Probably because it happened in the turf of the King’s Guards.” Anna smiled without humour.

“No way,” Robin could feel the blood draining from his face.

“There is an even more serious news actually,” Anna emptied her glass. “We intercepted a message to one of the mercenary groups yesterday. It was about a job to kidnap the Duchess Maribelle of Ylisse and bring her across the border into Plegia.”

“From whom?” Robin felt like he had just been punched. “The King? By the gods, such an act would get ugly very fast.” The Duchess was an Ylissean noble of the highest rank. There was rumour she was a prospective consort for no less than the Exalt's younger brother. Her kidnapping would be a provocation that couldn't be ignored. 

“We can’t tell who the commissioner is for certain. Gangrel, if it’s really him, isn’t so obvious.” Anna sighed. “Now you have the news. What are you going to do?”

“I want to confront the King. I want him to explain why he is doing this,” Robin tried to stamp down the panic and anger rising in him. “But it’ll be useless, won’t it? I have no concrete evidence beyond hearsay and conjectures. He will just deny it,” he swallowed. “And I have been warned the King won’t listen to reason when it comes to Ylisse.”

Anna tapped her glass. “Is that so?” She was serious but not surprised. Robin wondered what else her guild had uncovered about King Gangrel. She looked at him in the eyes. “Truth be told, Robin, we too want to stop whatever Gangrel is trying.” There was no mistaking who “we” were. “A war may bring profits but in the long term it’s bad for business.”

Robin smiled at the reason she gave. It was typical of his friend. “That’s heartening to know. I promise you I will do everything I can to stop an all-out war with Ylisse. Let’s try to stop the kidnapping plot first. Is it possible to persuade the mercenaries not to take up this job one way or another?”

“If you can outbid Gangrel then certainly,” Anna shrugged. “But I don’t think you can buy up all of them. Or pre-emptively arrest them.” She only confirmed what Robin already thought. The mercenary guilds existed at the edge of the laws, not outright illegal but not completely bound by the usual order either. Most of the time they acted as bodyguards for those who could afford it or as hired fighters for those who had matters to settle with the outlaws and didn’t want to wait for the army. However, they would also do mischiefs at the right price. “My people will try to stop the kidnapping request to reach them, but that won’t be enough.”

“Right,” Robin sighed. “I’m also thinking about warning the Ylisseans about what is afoot. The current Exalt is known to be a staunch supporter of peace. She might be persuaded to take the necessary actions without coming to blows.”

“Careful, Robin, those geezers in the Council won’t take calmly the idea that you consort with the Ylisseans against Gangrel,” Anna warned. “Especially via an illicit channel, which you will need to do if you don’t want to alert Gangrel and his faction about what you’re up to.”

“I’m the Avatar of their god Grima. I can talk to whomever I want,” Robin retorted. He softened his voice. “Sorry, I’m being childish. Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful.” He looked longingly at the brandy decanter, wishing that the alcohol would give him inspiration instead of clouding his mind. “Is there even an illicit channel for me to reach her? Or should we just leak something to their spies?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, but you’ll have to make sure they won’t take it the wrong way and fulfil Gangrel’s wish for a fight anyway. Besides, you’ll need to find an appropriate target to leak to. That’ll take time which we may not have.”

“I guess I’ll indeed have to take the direct approach and talk to the Exalt somehow then.” An idea passed through Robin’s mind. “Actually, there is someone else we might contact about the plot to kidnap the Duchess.”

“Oh?” Anna looked at him expectantly.

“Remember the Shepherds? Those militia who wanted to protect us against the bandits? I think their leader will listen to what we have to say.”

“Ah I remember them,” Anna smirked. “And their pretty leader too. You told me he was none other than the Prince of Ylisse, didn’t you? He indeed should be easier to reach discreetly than the Exalt." She became serious again. "Can we trust him to really listen though? He seems a reasonable sort, but..."

Robin understood what she was alluding to. The misgiving about the Ylissean royal family had never gone away after the war, even among moderate people like Anna. The Exalt had earned some respect - however grudging - for her efforts to repair the wrongs caused by her father, but her younger siblings remained an unknown. Robin bit his lips, going through the details of his brief encounter with the Ylissean Prince. He exhaled. "It's mostly gut feelings, but I think he is of the same mould as his sister. It's worth a try."  

"If you say so," Anna nodded. "How do you plan to persuade him?”

Robin leaned back into his sofa. “I believe I have something suitable for our purpose.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chrom and the Shepherds were on the patrol route again after a short return to Ylisstol for a rest and re-supply. As usual, he had checked in with Emmeryn and reported to her about what he had seen and heard in the field. In return, she had given him and his comrades her blessings and renewed their protective wards. The news about the bandits who were apparently from Plegia had been received with concerns. Phylla even suspected it was a provocation attempt from the Plegian court. However, as they had no further information, the instruction Chrom received was to protect the people and to be careful. The current King of Plegia Gangrel was unfriendly to the Halidom, to put it mildly, and had rebuffed all of Emmeryn’s invitations for diplomatic visits or any activity that might forge a friendship between the rulers of the two realms. She was worried one false move would open old wounds and ignite conflicts again. Chrom didn’t like the attitude of the Plegian King at all but he kept his opinions to himself. His duty was to help his sister, not to cause more problems for her.

The current round of patrol was relatively quiet. The Shepherds only had to break up a fight between farmers and help with resolving their argument as well as with cleaning up the aftermath. At Lissa’s pleading, Chrom agreed to stay the night at the village inn, though he teased his sister mercilessly for it. She returned the favour later when he again took the bath late after everyone else had finished. This time Frederick insisted on accompanying him to the communal bath, ignoring all of his protests and promises. Knowing when to fold a losing battle, Chrom reluctantly treaded to the bath with his loyal knight in tow. Frederick didn’t wear his armour but he still cut a pretty threatening figure with his sword and scowling face. As soon as they stepped into the room, a voice greeted them.

“You have a guard with you this time, Blue. That’s an improvement.”

Frederick drew his sword immediately while Chrom was taken aback when he realised who had just spoken. He hastily pulled his knight back.

“Wait, Frederick! He isn’t dangerous,” Chrom searched his memory for a name. “Gaius! Fancy meeting you again. I don’t see your, er, companions around here.” He was sure the Shepherds were the only guests at this village.

Gaius snorted. Frederick didn’t put his sword away but he was at least no longer poised for attack. He looked at Chrom questioningly.

“I met him and his young master once. He was with the caravan group attacked by bandits,” Chrom told his knight.

“That doesn’t explain why he is here,” Frederick said, eyes still fixed on the unexpected guest. “He doesn’t seem to want a bath.”

“Very astute, Mr. Knight,” Gaius whistled. He glanced at Chrom. “I have an order from Bubbles to deliver a message to Blue here.”

Frederick was speechless. Chrom wasn’t sure it was due to Gaius having the audacity to give the Prince of Ylisse a nickname or the mystery of “Bubbles”. He asked.

“Bubbles? You mean your young master Robin?” The Plegian young noble was a memorable person. What he might want from Chrom though was anyone’s guess.

“Yes, that one. Don’t worry, he isn’t asking you to marry him,” Gaius smirked. He walked outside the room checking for something, paying no mind that Frederick wordlessly shadowed him, and returned to where Chrom stood.

“Looks like there is no loiterer in the hallway. There should be no one listening in from the outside. Good,” Gaius reached from inside his jacket and pulled out something that looked like a crystal sphere set in a metal base. The sphere flashed and Frederick yanked Chrom back. That turned out to be unnecessary as what came out of the crystal was just the small floating image of a person and a voice.

Chrom’s jaws dropped and he knew Frederick was just as surprised. He had seen phonograms, mechanical-magical devices that could store up sounds, music, speeches, or even the reading of a book. Those were expensive and only the rich could afford them. Something that could store moving images was unheard of. Chrom’s eyes widened when he saw who the figure was. The colours of the image were rather muted but the quality was good enough to present the looks of the person. The one speaking out of the device was indeed the young Plegian noble Chrom had met. Gaius had told him the young man was from an important family but who could they be for the man to have this likely unique device? Then Chrom was absolutely stunned when the words floated to him, small but clear.

 _“Greetings, Your Royal Highness Prince Chrom of Ylisse. We have met but please allow me to introduce myself again,”_ the figure gave a small bow. _“I call myself Robin but formally I am known as Daraen, the current Avatar of Grima and a Grand Councillor of Plegia.”_ The image of Robin, or Daraen as it turned out, raised the back of his right hand up. There was a mark on it and though it was tiny, Chrom could make out the infamous Six Eyes pattern of Grima’s Sigil. He felt his breath sucked out of him. His father had waged a war with the goal to destroy the then still infant mortal reincarnation of the dreaded dragon god, and that war had nearly ruined them all. Despite having bits of intelligence here and there about the current Avatar of Grima, Emmeryn almost never discussed the person in private or public, always politely steering away from the topic, and her court followed suit. The Avatar was like a bad dream to them, haunting but seemingly not quite real. Never had Chrom imagined the Avatar could be a young man in flesh and blood with bright eyes and a friendly smile whom he had actually encountered and talked to.

Next to him, Frederick raised his voice. “What the…”. That jerked Chrom out of his thoughts. He raised his hand to silence Frederick to listen to the rest of the message.

_“This is an unusual way to contact you but it concerns a highly important and delicate matter. I’m informed by my sources that some mercenaries have been approached about a mission to kidnap the Duchess Maribelle of Ylisse and bring her to Plegia. I have reasons to suspect that the objective of such an action is to stir up a new war between our countries, but I can’t confront the conspirators yet. Therefore I have a favour to ask of you. Please keep the Duchess safe and please be patient in the presence of anything that could be construed as provocation from Plegia. I wish for peace between us and will do everything in my power to maintain it. This is my pledge.”_

The image flickered and disappeared. Frederick reacted before Chrom could find his words. “This is a trap, milord,” he stood between Chrom and Gaius like a shield, glaring daggers at the strange messenger. “They follow us here and give us this story to set you up for an attack. Tell the truth,” this was addressed at Gaius. “Why else was your master nosing around in Ylissean soil?”

Gaius’ face was impassive but Chrom had the feelings the man’s gaze turned a fraction pitying as if he was talking to particularly dense children.

“I’m only the courier. Believe it or not, it’s your right. I’ll say this though. If Bubbles had design on your precious prince, he would have used more effective means than giving you a message in secret.”

“How did you find us?” Frederick snapped.

“You Shepherds don’t exactly keep your patrols secret or unpredictable, you know,” Gaius shrugged. “I only needed to ask around a bit.”

Frederick’s glance at Chrom promised a long debate later about Chrom and Lissa working in the field like they had been doing so far. Chrom could see why his knight and friend was so rattled. Ylisse and Plegia still had not normalised their diplomatic relations. By an unspoken agreement, private citizens of the two countries could cross the border for various purposes, but the officials of the two courts kept away from each other’s territory. But now Robin, no, the Avatar Daraen had blithely ignored that delicate arrangement. Besides, the idea of Grima’s mortal reincarnation poking around was hardly comforting to the Ylissean mind. However, Chrom was inclined to like the man. Daraen had been thoughtful if not entirely honest in their encounters. He was even helpful for the Shepherds’ mission. Chrom wanted to trust him but there was a score to settle.

“You too didn’t tell the truth when we met,” Chrom told Gaius accusingly. “You said your master was just a scion of a noble house being sent out for his education.”

Gaius wasn’t even embarrassed. “Yet nothing I said was untrue. You came to that conclusion on your own, Mr. Prince.”

“You certainly didn’t help,” Chrom glared, not liking being jerked around like that. “I want your honest answer. Why did he go to Ylisse?”

Gaius didn’t avoid eye contact with Chrom. “He heard a strange rumour from the merchants and wanted to investigate.” Then with a wry smirk. “Also he had never been to Ylisse before and thought it exciting.”

“That’s all of it?” Frederick said incredulously.

“He isn’t explicitly forbidden from such a trip,” Gaius shrugged. “You yourself should know well what young lordlings are like.”

Chrom wanted to protest the implicit jab at him but thought better of it. He returned to the matter at hand. “Your master mentioned someone in Plegia wanted to start a war with us. Who is it?”

Gaius shook his head. “Someone higher up enough for even the Avatar of Grima to be afraid. That’s all I can tell you.”

Frederick frowned. “More cryptic words. And you want us to trust you? Who do you think you are talking to?”

Frederick wasn’t nicknamed “the Wary” for nothing. Chrom bit his lips, weighing carefully again what he knew. It was just like Frederick said. Back alley dealings and vague warnings, those were not much basis for trust and confidence. However, Chrom couldn’t ignore the fact that the Avatar took the trouble of doing the closest thing to talking to Chrom in person with what looked like a one-of-its-kind device. It spoke of effort and sincerity. This was the first time someone from Plegia reached out to Chrom – to Ylisse – in a friendly gesture, even if in a rather convoluted way. Chrom thought of Emmeryn, of her steadfast faith that communication would heal the rifts caused by war despite being repeatedly rejected by the Plegians, and wondered what she would decide in his stead.

And then there was the content of the warning itself. It would be gross negligence to just dismiss it without any investigation. Despite Frederick’s stubborn insistence that the message was a trap, Chrom knew his friend would look into the matter himself once he ensured Chrom and Lissa were safely under lock and key in the royal residence in Ylisstol. The thought of being babied like that made Chrom bristle a little. Emmeryn entrusted him with the Falchion, the royal sword passed down for generations from the first Exalt, after he had confided in her his wish to be her support. Where Chrom was lacking in finesse with words and politicking, he made up for it with his skills in fighting and readiness to protect. He founded the Shepherds to help keep Ylisse safe. Whatever hid behind Daraen’s action, a threat was lurking, and if the warning was true, everything Emmeryn had been working so hard for could be destroyed. Putting it that way, Chrom knew what he had to do.

“I have made up my mind, Frederick,” Chrom tried to say it as gently but resolutely as possible. “I will send Sumia back to Ylisstol to inform my sister and Phylla. The rest of the Shepherds will ride to Duchess Maribelle’s estate tomorrow morning.”

“But…” Frederick protested.

“You know it as well as I do that there is a threat regardless of the veracity of this warning. If it is true, not just Maribelle but Ylisse at large is in danger. If I am the target, well, I step into it with my eyes open. I have you and the Shepherds too.”

Frederick sighed. “As you wish, milord.” He turned to Gaius and his voice became chilly. “However, I must demand him to stay with us. Any sign of deception and his head will be sent to the Plegia Castle. I won’t back down on this.”

To his credits, Gaius didn’t flinch. “That’s to be expected, I suppose. Bubbles warned me you guys would be suspicious, though he hasn’t paid me nearly enough for that. Very well, it’s on your dime. Don’t expect me to spend a penny on this detour.”

Chrom intervened before Frederick could work up his outrage. “I will see to your expenses during your stay with us. Anything else?”

“I want to send a message to Bubbles. He should know you guys have received his warning and that I’ve been kidnapped, not deserting him.” Gaius glanced at Frederick, smirking. “You guys can watch. It’s not very interesting.”

Chrom looked at his friend and then Gaius, feeling his peacemaking skill would be heavily tested in the future. “I think it’ll be better for our trust that we contact your master ourselves. I believe you should know the appropriate proxy. Please advise us on that.” Memory of Daraen’s idle threat about Gaius’ candy stash flashed through Chrom’s mind. _Try to find out what people desire and win them over_ , Chrom’s tutor Lady Cecily liked to tell him.  He smiled. “As a gesture of good will, we will gift you some Ylisstol honey cakes from our supplies.”

Gaius’ eyes flashed greedily before he schooled his face into blank amusement. “Not just a pretty face, aren’t you? Very well, Sir Blue, I will reveal one of our contacts in exchange for sweets.” He laughed. “Bubbles will enjoy this. Cake negotiation.”

Frederick still radiated disapproval but he grudgingly smiled. Chrom breathed out, relieved that they had come to an understanding. Tiredness and sores from a day of duty in the field set in and Chrom remembered his bath. He pushed both Gaius and Frederick outside.

“That should be enough for today. Now, can you gentlemen give me some privacy? I’m still caked in dirt and sweat.”  

There was some satisfaction in closing the door to those troublesome men.   


End file.
